Dusk to Dawn
by Padfoot Lives
Summary: After every dusk comes a dawn. How do they live a normal life after all they’ve endured? Hermione, Sirius, and all the others try. A sequel to “Road to Redemption”.
1. Graduation

  
  
**Disclaimer:** "Harry Potter" etc, etc ... you know the drill here.  
  
**Summary:** After every dusk comes a dawn. How do they live a normal life after all they've endured? Hermione, Sirius, and all the others try. A sequel to "Road to Redemption".  
  
**Note:** I strongly suggest that anybody who hasn't already read "Road to Redemption" should read that before they attempt to read this fic, because I'm afraid they won't understand very much, because I will be making frequent references to events that have already happened.  
  
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**_Dusk to Dawn_**  
  
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**Chapter One:** Graduation  
  
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"Damn it, Hermione," said Ginny Weasley with a mixture of exasperation and amusement, simultaneously throwing her hands in the air, "If you don't sit still, I'll have to resort to my old Bat-Bogey Hex to make you!"  
  
Hermione Granger bit her lip, trying not to smile. She was extremely nervous.  
  
"Sorry, Ginny."  
  
"Just stay where you are ... there!" Ginny said triumphantly and with a sigh that was worthy of a warrior having just fought a great battle, she stepped back to admire the figure Hermione cut in her graduation robes (which had needed to be pinned at the back, thus resulting in the scene that had gone on previously), "Now you're ready. Oh, Hermione, you look absolutely enchanting!" she squealed.  
  
Hermione eyed Ginny suspiciously for any signs of sarcasm. Then she moved across to look in the mirror. A smile tugged at her lips. She couldn't see any reason for Ginny's transports, but she did think she looked fairly good. However, the excitement in the air was contagious. Across the Gryffindor girls dorm room, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were giggling and fussing over their own clothes. It was the last day of their seventh years and graduating from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry did not happen every day. In fact, today was the first day in their lives that Hermione's parents were going to be at the school, down in the Great Hall where the ceremony was going to take place.  
  
"Ready?" said Ginny, grinning.  
  
Hermione shifted from one leg to another, and then said, "I think so."  
  
"Hermione Granger, nervous about anything? Exams are over, remember, and you're going to get all your NEWTs without any doubt!"  
  
"I think I'll just stay here," said Hermione, nibbling on her nails, "There's no reason for me to go downstairs after all. I've got some Polyjuice Potion that you can take and pretend to be me for today – "  
  
"Really," scoffed Ginny, shaking her head, "And what if Sirius manages to get me alone?"  
  
Hermione burst out laughing, but blushed all the same. "Good point."  
  
"Thank you!"  
  
Ginny grabbed her arm and forced her out of the room door. They went down to the common-room. On the way, Hermione noticed that Ginny, who was still in her sixth year, was looking at her with some envy. She smiled a little wryly to herself. There really wasn't much to envy about her life. Although she was as excited about this day as anyone else – and particularly so because everyone she loved and cared about was going to be there – Hermione couldn't help dreading the end of the day. After this day, she would no longer be a student of Hogwarts. She would be a girl getting close to her eighteenth birthday, who had to find a way to live in the world.  
  
And that scared her. Because she didn't know how.  
  
Seven years spent in the dangers of Voldemort's threat, and the shadows of war, had scarred her. She had forgotten how to live beyond the distractions of Hogwarts.  
  
Hermione closed her eyes, opened them again, and stepped down the stairs into the Gryffindor common room. It was time to stop thinking about such pessimistic and gloomy thoughts. Today was a day to enjoy. Besides, there was going to be a special party held by the Order of the Phoenix (or at least, the Order of the Phoenix members, as there technically was no Order any longer, Voldemort and his Death Eaters being mostly gone) in honour of the three Gryffindor graduates (Hermione, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley). A few other students in their year – old friends and allies – would also be invited, such as Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood, to name two.  
  
The first thing Hermione saw when she entered the common room was the red head of Ron Weasley as he sat in an armchair and looked particularly green. Harry Potter, looking good with his robes neat but his hair in disarray, was lingering beside his best friend and looking utterly incapable of dealing with Ron's nervous nausea. He looked up, and his eyes lit up with utter relief at the sight of Hermione, who was the only person who could deal with such an event.  
  
"Ron," said Hermione bracingly, marching up to him and forgetting about her own nervousness in the light of her best friends', "What on earth is the matter?"  
  
"I can't do this," declared Ron firmly, "I won't."  
  
"This is the fifth time he's said so," Harry put in with a helpless shrug.  
  
Hermione put her hands on her hips while Ginny giggled at her brother's plight in the background. "Ronald," Hermione said in her most schoolmistressy voice, "Why are you frightened of your own graduation? Surely you know by now that you _are_ going to graduate. Shame on you! A Gryffindor – a coward? Those words don't fit together, you know."  
  
"I should have been a Hufflepuff," gasped Ron.  
  
"Hufflepuffs have more nerve than you do," said Hermione severely.  
  
This Ron took instant exception to. "I've got nerve!"  
  
"Prove it."  
  
"Think you're so clever, don't you?" grumbled Ron, hauling himself to his feet and shaking off the imaginary dust from his new robes (Fred and George had chipped in with their profits from their joke shop to assist their poor parents in buying Ron new, first-hand graduation robes), "Well ..." he suddenly grinned, "You are that clever."  
  
"Thank you, Ron," said Hermione with a smile, "Can we go now?"  
  
Ron and Harry grinned. "Let's show the rest of them who the _real_ graduates are!"  
  
"Such conviction in their own superiority," sighed Hermione, as she followed them towards the portrait hole, "Harry, if I may ask, why are you carrying a rose?"  
  
Harry hastily concealed this article, and looked embarrassed. "What?" he said innocently.  
  
Hermione smiled to herself, but said nothing.  
  
"Sirius was looking for you earlier," continued Harry with a grin that told her very plainly that some serious teasing was approaching and that he wanted very much to change the subject, "He came to the common room when Ron and I were there."  
  
"I'll find him after the ceremony," said Hermione evenly, biting back a smile.  
  
It was still very difficult not to blush when they talked about Sirius and her. Although it had been over a year since they had gotten together, they hadn't seen each other very much due to Sirius's occupation with Dumbledore, Remus Lupin and Severus Snape (to Sirius's disgust) in trying to track down the remaining few Death Eaters that had escaped during the last battle; and Hermione's preoccupation with NEWTs and schoolwork. It therefore still felt as if their relationship was new. Indeed, the last time she had seen him had been about seven weeks previously, and she missed him terribly.  
  
She smiled slightly to herself as they descended the staircase of Gryffindor tower. Other students and graduates were to be spied as well, everybody looking particularly spruced and nice because of the particular day that it was. The sounds of loud conversation and laughter echoed from the Entrance and Great Halls on the bottom floor. However, Hermione's thoughts dwelled elsewhere. She was thinking about the events that had led to Sirius and her being together at all. After Sirius had returned from the dead, Dumbledore had worked very selectively on their memories to erase all memories that offered knowledge into the future they had seen when they had accidentally gone forward in time. Hermione knew she had gone forward, but had no idea at all what she had seen. Dumbledore had explained to her that either way, after the altered events of the present, the future would be different so it didn't matter.  
  
It was an unpredictable future once more.  
  
And Hermione looked to it with anticipation as well as apprehension.  
  
"Hermione," Ron spoke up suddenly, and she looked at him to see that he was eyeing her up and down, "You're no longer a skinny bean."  
  
"I beg your pardon?" she asked, startled.  
  
He looked sheepish. "I don't mean you're fat – of course you're not! I just meant that you're not painfully skinny anymore, as you always were because you worked too hard and rarely had time to eat. You've still been working, but I guess you must be eating more because you're not – well – as skinny, as I said. It's nicer this way."  
  
"Yeah, I noticed that too," Ginny commented.  
  
Harry caught Hermione's eye and they both looked amused.  
  
Hermione shifted a little awkwardly and said, "Well – I suppose I should take that as a compliment then, Ron. Thanks. I have been eating."  
  
"Well done," said the redhead cheerfully.  
  
He was fortunately diverted from the subject by their arrival at the doorway of the Great Hall. The House Tables were not inside, but instead, amidst fine decorations, were hundreds of chairs and tables – like a Muggle Golden Globe ceremony, thought Hermione – and at the far end was an elevated platform on which the seventh-years would have to go, one by one. Professor McGonagall was already there, and Professor Dumbledore had begun his speech.  
  
Ginny whispered "good luck" to them all, and darted off to find her seat with the other Weasleys. They were all there – even Charlie had returned specifically from Romania. Ron was looking rather green again, and with a laugh, both Harry and Hermione gripped one of his arms each and forced him forward into the alphabetical line of seventh-years, before going off to find their own spots.  
  
As they arrived at a gap between Sally-Ann Perkins and Michael Powell, Hermione turned to Harry and said, "Well, I suppose this is where I leave you, Harry."  
  
He grinned. "Don't lose your way finding the G's."  
  
"I'll be careful," she said solemnly, and then laughed. She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "Good luck. This is your day."  
  
"Yours too," he smiled and watched her go.  
  
Hermione located the G's without too much difficulty, her only hitch in progress being the stop she made beside the M's, because Draco Malfoy hissed her name. She frowned at him. Since his father's death, Malfoy had not been so arrogant or malicious, but he was still essentially the same old Malfoy.  
  
He shrugged, pretending he hadn't said anything, and she passed on. She rolled her eyes at his immaturity, and slotted herself into the gap provided for her. She could hear Dumbledore speaking, and caught some of his words.  
  
"As many of you already know, this particular batch has created some undoubtedly exceptional young people," he was saying with that twinkle in his eye (Hermione smiled; she had no doubt as to who he referred to, namely Harry), "And I can say with certainty that Hogwarts will miss them greatly when they leave us and go out into the world. But ties will never be broken. Great friendships have been formed amongst us, and I don't think we will be saying goodbye to many of the students who are graduating with honours today. But enough stalling. It's time to introduce the graduates and present them with their certificates."  
  
The 'certificates' turned out to be medals that squealed out the graduate's name and their particular list of subjects in which they had received NEWTs. Hermione watched Hannah Abbot turn beet red as a shrill voice bellowed her name and NEWTs out for the entire Hall to hear, and hastily fled from the spotlight.  
  
The ceremony was not precisely exciting. Hermione's heart nearly stopped when her name was called, but she went up with her usual composure and had no trouble smiling brightly around the Hall because as Professor McGonagall handed her the medal, the Transfiguration professor actually had proud tears in her eyes, and Dumbledore winked from the sidelines. Hermione had a brief flash of a sea of faces when she went up to the stage – her mother and Molly Weasley's tears, her father beaming at her. She could distinctly hear Fred and George yelling something along the lines of "Granger is the queen", Ron and Harry were screaming themselves hoarse, Hagrid's voice boomed above all else –  
  
Hermione's eyes as she stood for that moment on the platform were fixed on Sirius, who was sitting between Lupin and George. He was grinning up at her, and that grin was all she needed. Feeling quite on top of the world, Hermione smiled and managed to exit the platform with enough gracefulness to make Nymphadora Tonks (who was also in the crowd) envious.  
  
As Harry and Ron went up in turn, Hermione knew her vocal glands were permanently destroyed after all the screeching and cheering she did. Indeed, when Harry's turn came, the cheers and roars were so tremendous that she had to scream just to add to the excited cacophony.  
  
And then it was over, and Dumbledore was inviting everybody to go out into the grounds for refreshments and a "Weird Sisters" rendition of the school song.  
  
Hermione drifted through the milling people, unable to locate a single one of the people she was looking for. Three times she bumped into Neville Longbottom, which told her that either she or he was moving in circles. Then, through the crowd, she spotted Harry. However, she checked her movement in his direction as she realized he was talking to a happily smiling Parvati Patil. Hermione's sharp eyes also saw the rose in Parvati's hand, and she turned away, smiling to herself, and decided to stay put for a while before going across to him.  
  
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Sirius, when will you grow up!"  
  
Hermione turned around at the sound of the familiar, amused, and exasperated voice and was nearly knocked right off her feet by a man who zipped across the grass and wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist, making her squeal. He effectively stifled the squeal by kissing her.  
  
"Sirius!" she squeaked, wriggling.  
  
He grinned down at her, pulling back. "Yeah?"  
  
"Are you out of your mind? _What_ if my parents see you?"  
  
"Haven't you told them?" He demanded.  
  
"Can you imagine my telling them that at sixteen, I started dating a man who was no less than thirty-four? Besides, even if I did tell them, they're dentists! They don't approve of PDA."  
  
"That's what I tried telling him," said Remus Lupin, smiling as he came up behind Sirius, "But wild horses couldn't have stopped him. Congratulations, Hermione."  
  
"Thanks, Professor Lupin," smiled Hermione.  
  
"I think you can call me Remus now," he chuckled.  
  
Hermione faltered over the name.  
  
"I don't see your parents anywhere around," Sirius remarked, after having subjected their immediate surroundings to close scrutiny. "I don't see why – "  
  
"You see why I had to tell him to grow up?" _Remus_ asked Hermione.  
  
She nodded. "Clear as day."  
  
"I haven't seen you in seven weeks," Sirius said, by way of explanation.  
  
Hermione smiled, her heart thumping harder already, and she kissed his cheek quickly. She nearly regretted it, because she felt utterly dissatisfied and he seemed to feel the same way, judging by the look on his face. "I've missed you too, Sirius, terribly ... but you've got to restrain yourself for another few hours. My parents will – my parents!" she gasped, startled, as they presented themselves at her side at that very moment. Blushing furiously, she stammered out a 'hello' and a 'did you enjoy yourselves?'.  
  
"Remus Lupin," said Remus, nobly coming to her rescue and holding out his hand to Hermione's parents, "I taught Hermione Defense Against the Dark Arts when she was in her third year. We've become very good friends since then."  
  
"Oh yes, she's told us a great deal about you," Hermione's father said cheerfully, shaking his head, "It's a pleasure to meet you at last!" He turned towards the other stranger.  
  
"Sirius Black," said Sirius with his rakish grin, "Escaped convict from Azkaban Prison, recently cleared of all charges."  
  
Hermione closed her eyes.  
  
"R-Really?" said Mrs. Granger weakly, but she was smiling slightly. Hermione recognized the smile.  
  
Remus caught hold of Sirius's sleeve firmly. "It was nice meeting you," he said in his perfectly polite and good-natured voice, "I suppose we'll meet again some time. Congratulations again, Hermione, and we'll see you at the party tonight." With that, he smiled and steered Sirius away from the little family. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, although she was very sorry to see Sirius go.  
  
"So that's your favourite Defense professor," said Mr Granger, smiling at his daughter, "He's a nice fellow, I can see why you always liked him. Lovely ceremony today, my dear, we are extremely proud of you, of course! That medal, what makes it squeal like that? Oh ... magic, of course. Forgot about that. It's rather hard to remember sometimes that you're a witch, dear."  
  
"Quite, Dad," Hermione murmured, smiling.  
  
"And about that other man we just met, Hermione, is he really an escaped convict as he said? Fresh out of prison, he says, although he looked too clean and shaven to be fresh out of the gaol."  
  
"He was joking, Dad. He does that a lot; he's a marauder – "  
  
"I can't help but think his face his rather familiar – "  
  
"He's very _charming_, isn't he, dear?" Mrs. Granger said suddenly, "And quite handsome, too – "  
  
"Mum, don't even go there," Hermione, alarmed, "He's taken."  
  
"They always are," sighed her mother.  
  
Hermione was very happy to escape her parents. She found Sirius and Lupin not very far away, and Sirius was laughing while Remus reprimanded him for trying to frighten Hermione's parents. Hermione rolled her eyes as she approached them, and said, "They weren't very frightened. Mum thought you were rather good-looking."  
  
"Did she?" Sirius said with a grin, "Like mother, like – "  
  
"Don't," said Hermione with emphasis, prodding him in the chest, "Even – _go_ – there! Really, Sirius, you're the most reckless and unpredictable person I've ever known. You're just lucky they didn't see you kiss me!"  
  
"All right, all right," Sirius rolled his eyes and transformed into a large black dog. He barked.  
  
Looking down into the melting black eyes, Hermione laughed and patted the dog's head. Then they all proceeded across to where Harry was now talking to Ron, Parvati having disappeared out of sight. Harry turned and stared in surprise at the sight of Sirius ambling along beside Lupin and Hermione, as a dog.  
  
"You're not a marked man anymore, Sirius," he told his godfather quizzically.  
  
Remus smiled. "He – ah – feels that his canine form presents the only opportunities available to show his affection for Hermione without risking the chaos that would undoubtedly result should her parents discover that she's dating an escaped convict, recently cleared of all charges!"  
  
Harry and Ron laughed loudly, while Sirius transformed back into a man, grinning.  
  
"Been waiting for this for seven years, haven't you, Granger?"  
  
Hermione turned, startled, to see Malfoy standing not far behind her. She walked up to him and looked him straight in the eye. She kept her voice level when she spoke to him; she had enough heart to pity him in the situation he was in – and it couldn't be pleasant to lose a parent, no matter what kind of person that parent had been. "What do you mean? Have I been waiting for my graduation day for seven years? No, I can't say that I have."  
  
"Oh, of course ..." said Malfoy with a hint of a bite in his voice, his eyes glittering for a brief moment, "You've been busy with – other things."  
  
"Yes," said Hermione evenly.  
  
"Ah well, school and your extracurricular business ... it's done now, isn't it?"  
  
"Looks like it."  
  
Malfoy leaned forward, and there was pure, malicious venom in his soft voice as he said with a lifting of his blond eyebrows: "You're so damned pleased with yourself, aren't you? Well, here's a damper that ought to make you sit up and think. It's one question the Insufferable Know-It-All may not know the answer to ... what now?"  
  
And with a gleam of triumph at the look on her face, he walked away.  
  
Hermione stood still for a moment, her euphoria over the day fading a little in the light of what Malfoy had just said. She turned around, and saw that Harry, Ron and Sirius had all heard what he had said and they all had expressions of their faces that matched her thoughts. She realized that she couldn't procrastinate from thinking about it any longer. School was over, her 'extracurricular business' was over ... for so long, they had been embedded in war. For seven years, all they had known was evil and pain and shadows. Their driving force for the most important years of their lives had been to defeat Voldemort, and to complete their years in school.  
  
She, Harry and Ron had accomplished both of those tasks. Voldemort was gone forever, and they were Hogwarts graduates today. And Sirius, who had been sent to prison less than three years after he had graduated from Hogwarts and had been in the Order of the Phoenix for the in-between three years, had never known a normal life either. Dumbledore had said it was time for them to go out into the world, and that it was their turn to live.  
  
Well, Malfoy was right ... what now?  
  
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TBC.  
  
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A/N: Writing is an addiction. Hehe. I'm not precisely sure about this story yet, but I thought I'd give it a try. This may turn out to be pretty short, but then again, it may also drag on for a great many chapters. It really depends on my imagination, how busy I am, and – most of all – on the response I get from my readers. So please review and let me know! 


	2. Hope for Future

**Disclaimer:** "Harry Potter" etc, etc ... you know the drill here.

**Summary:** After every dusk comes a dawn. How do they live a normal life after all they've endured? Hermione, Sirius, and all the others try. A sequel to "Road to Redemption".

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**_Dusk to Dawn_**

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**Chapter Two:** Hope for Future

A month had gone by since her graduation day. Hermione filled out the last of her applications and began putting them into envelopes. She addressed one to the Department of Mysteries and another to the Department for the Protection of Muggle Rights, both at the Ministry of Magic; another to Dumbledore at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; and the last to St Mungo's. She piled up the envelopes, got up from the desk and stretched. She knew that she was supposed to be on holiday now and didn't need to worry about starting work for another year, but she didn't want to find herself stranded with nowhere to go.

She heard voices out in the corridor – her mother's. "Go right in, Harry dear," she was saying, "She's in there."

There was a knock on the door. Hermione turned around and called, "Come in". The door opened and Harry walked in. She smiled at him, and said nothing about her applications – Harry and the others would laugh at her. Nobody knew just how worried and afraid she was of the future.

Especially now.

"Harry!" she said happily, "You're early!"

"I thought I'd turn up a little early and spend some time with you before we leave," he replied, sitting down in her revolving desk chair and grinning at her, "I can't believe I haven't seen you this entire month, Hermione! If you're going to go into hiding like this, we'll never see each other!"

"I'm sorry," she said, meaning it, "I've just been really busy."

Harry shook his head. "Even Sirius says he hasn't seen you more than twice. What in hell have you been doing?"

"Just – helping my parents a bit," said Hermione quickly, moving a large book across her desk as subtly as possible, to cover up the envelopes. Harry was looking at her, and didn't notice.

"You didn't come with us to Edinburgh."

Hermione smiled slightly at the accusing note in Harry's voice. "Don't tell me you missed me!" she teased. "Really, Harry, that was more of a boys' thing. You, Ron, Sirius and Remus needed your time off. It would have been ridiculous for me to intrude on your bachelor parties."

Harry burst out laughing. "None of us are getting married! And do you honestly think Sirius was hanging around strippers?"

"Well, was he?"

"No, actually – he was dying to get home the whole time."

Hermione laughed, and went to her closet. "Harry," she said, as she looked through her clothes for something nice to wear. She wanted to look good tonight, for reasons best kept to herself for now.

"Yeah?"

"Are you serious about the moving in thing?"

"Of course I am," he sounded surprised, and frowned at her as she turned around with a pile of possible options in her arms, "The House is incredible – it's large and airy, with plenty of room and privacy and fireplaces! Sirius, Ron, Remus and I have all already moved into different parts of it – it's even bigger than Grimmauld Place, and Sirius's Uncle Alphard left it to him perfectly equipped. I don't see why you shouldn't move in with us."

Hermione scowled. "How would that work, Harry? My parents will have heart attacks if I tell them I'm moving in with four men, and into the bedroom of one."

"You've just got to tell them about you and Sirius, haven't you? You're overage now!"

"Sirius hasn't even asked me to move in yet, all right?" Hermione shook her head.

Harry blinked, clearly surprised. "He hasn't?"

"Harry, you know Sirius has a fear of committing himself to anything. He may be able to sustain a long-term relationship and to stick to the people he cares about infinitely, but he flees from permanent attachments."

"Maybe... but not with you," said Harry with conviction.

"Me included," she said gently. "Trust me."

"But – "

"Which one?" Hermione changed the subject, holding up a long white dress and a short but elegant black dress, both of which revealed quite a bit of skin.

Harry eyed her with misgiving. "Hermione, I'm not a girl and I'm not gay. I'm no judge of clothes!"

"You're male, aren't you?" she countered, laughing, "So tell me which one would set a red-blooded male's heart pounding harder?"

Her best friend shook his head and said, "The black. But I don't really get why – "

"Just close your eyes."

He started laughing. Hermione reached for her wand, and Harry hastily shut his eyes, muttering "Sirius would kill me anyway" distinctly under his breath, a grin playing around his mouth. Rolling her eyes (quite accustomed to the ceaseless teasing by now), she quickly changed. It took only about another ten minutes to get fully ready, and she talked to Harry while putting her earrings and shoes on. She brushed out her loose curls until they shone and put on the slightest bit of cherry lip colour. Her confidence went up one notch when Harry said she looked great. Not, she thought with a smile, that Harry was a spectacular judge or anything...

They were all going to dinner at the House (as they called it). It was something of a 'reunion', because they hadn't all met up since graduation. Hermione wasn't sure who would be there, but she assumed Harry, Ron and Remus and Tonks (who were still very much together, after getting together in a rather unorthodox way during the final battle) were definite. Hermione had asked Harry, a proud owner of a new Ford Anglia (he had considered it a good investment for the future and spent some of his fortune in buying in), to pick her up so that they could go together. Of course, they could Apparate, but both Harry and Hermione liked being normal Muggles sometimes. It was tough work always being a witch or wizard hero, particularly for Harry.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked her, as they were driving. It was about a twenty-minute drive, she knew, having been to both Sirius's and Harry and Ron's apartments before. "You look a little pale."

Hermione shook her head. "Oh... just nerves."

"Nerves? What on earth for?"

"Just – generally."

Harry turned his head right around to look at her. "Listen, Miss Granger," he said dryly, "You can't fool me. I've known you far too long and I'm no longer selfishly absorbed in my own feelings. I know something's up with you."

"Do you?" she sighed.

"Yes... I saw you empty the caramel milkshake your mother gave us before we left into the sink. You love caramel!"

"I've gone rather off it," said Hermione vaguely. "Harry, please don't ask me what's the matter. There really is nothing _wrong_, you know. I don't want you to worry for no reason. Yes, I'll admit something is up. But I can't tell you about it just yet. You'll know by the end of the night."

Harry looked at her for a moment, and she had an uneasy feeling that he wasn't as ignorant as she thought (and knew he wasn't as thick-headed as Ron). Then he nodded and said, "All right... I'll be patient."

"And you won't worry," she added.

He grinned. "And I won't worry. By the way, Ron and I both have dates for the night. They insisted on coming on their own, which is why mine isn't here."

Hermione laughed. "Heck, Harry, I'm going to have to strain my brains to guess who these mysterious dates could be! Seeing as you gave Parvati a rose on graduation, and Ron and Luna have had a thing for nearly eight months now... this should be fun tonight."

"Yeah... it will be," said Harry, smiling.

When they arrived at the main living-room and den of the House, they found Ron chuckling on the couch, Luna looking dreamy, and Remus waving his wand at a smashed china bowl with an expression of wry affection on his face. As Tonks was standing sheepishly a safe distance away, and Sirius's laughter echoed from the kitchen, it didn't take much to put two and two together. Hermione laughed as Tonks gave her a big hug and whispered, "Please protect me from Sirius! He'll kill me!"

"I heard that," said the escaped convict, strolling out of the kitchen at that moment and bending over a chest of drawers to look for something, "And I'll have you know that I utterly despise that bowl. Only don't tell Molly; she gave it to me as a housewarming present. Hey, Harry, I heard Dumbledore's got you signed up for Auror training already."

"Yeah, it starts in two months' time," said Harry, shrugging, "And here I was looking forward to nice, long break."

"Maybe he believes you need to keep your mind on something," Hermione said shrewdly.

"He knows me well," said Harry quietly.

Sirius had started at the sound of Hermione's voice and now turned sharply around. "Where the hell – ?" His voice broke off as he looked at her for the first time since she'd come in, and he just stood there. Hermione felt a flush heat up her skin as she recognized the look in his eyes. Harry had been right – guaranteed heart-pounding. She swallowed, and Sirius did the same. Neither of them heard the snickers from other occupants of the room.

"Well – you look – " he croaked, clearly at a loss for words.

"Different?" she suggested, smiling. Even though he was in normal black trousers and a frayed black shirt over a white T-shirt, she thought he looked heart-stoppingly good as well. He hadn't shaved in a day, and there was a shadow along his jaw.

"Different," he agreed, seizing gratefully on the word, although it was plain to everyone that he considered it a complete understatement.

Ron rolled his eyes. "If you two could stop staring at each other, you'd notice that there are other people in the room."

"Would you object to my kissing her, Ron?" asked Sirius, without taking his eyes off Hermione.

"Hell, yeah! Please save it for later!"

Hermione laughed and swatted him on the head. He grinned up at her and said, "Nice to see you again, Hermione."

"You too, Ron. Hi, Luna."

"Oh... hello," said Luna, smiling dreamily at her. "Ronald, has dinner started?"

Hermione caught Sirius's eye, and grinned. Parvati arrived a few minutes later, looking stunning in a very simple dress. She apologized for being late and Tonks tripped over the carpet in her attempt to introduce herself to Parvati. The last arrivals to dinner were unsurprisingly Fred and George Weasley, who came Apparating in with classic intent to cause havoc. After spending a few minutes in quelling their firecrackers and Sirius thanking his stars devoutly that he'd had the forethought to enchant his apartment with a sound-proofing spell before, they finally sat down to dinner.

"Firewhiskeys," said George mischievously, handing them around, "There's nobody underage here any longer after all, Remus, so don't look at me like that!"

Remus laughed. "All right, George, I beg pardon. Don't look so happy, Sirius – honestly, you never did grow up."

Hermione smiled to herself. She knew why Sirius was sometimes the same age as Harry and Ron, and otherwise a very shrewd and cynical adult... his years had Azkaban had stripped his youth from him, and most of him would always be scarred by it. But there was time now for him to relax and let the young marauder resurface to have some fun. He missed his youth, she knew, and mourned its early loss. She understood better than he would ever know, having lost her own at the age of eleven when she had helped Harry get the Philosopher's Stone to safety.

"So, Sirius, you still hunting for remaining Death Eaters?" asked Tonks.

"Almost done," he replied, "Just a couple more to find, and it doesn't matter if we don't – we don't think Moon and Goyle pose any real threat anymore."

"What're you planning to do after you're done with this?"

Sirius looked at his cousin for a minute, and Remus swiftly drew Tonks' attention away to spare him the pain of finding an answer to that frightening, unanswerable question: what now?

"What're you thinking about?" Sirius asked Hermione, who was sitting next to him.

She smiled at him. "That's for me to know and for you to find out at some point of time," she said mischievously.

He laughed and kissed the tip of her nose. Dinner was great fun, Hermione reflected, when it was over and they were all drinking Firewhiskeys in the cozy den. Fred and George made frequent comments about how they felt disgusted to be a part of a group that was solely comprised of couples. They seriously considered dating each other, but decided they couldn't cope with homosexuality and incest at the same time. It was too much, Fred said seriously, for even men of their calibre to handle.

Ron snorted into his chocolate cake. "Men of your _what_ was that?" he demanded. "I don't think I heard right."

Fred threw a cushion at him, but it hit Luna.

"Typical chaos in our world," sighed Remus, "How did I ever get trapped into this?"

"By the way," Harry said, grinning, "Guess who got an offer from Puddlemere United, as Chaser?"

Hermione squealed. "Ron, why didn't you _tell_ me?"

Ron's face was flaming red as everybody yelled and expressed their excitement in different ways. He admitted that he was going to play Quidditch, but he still didn't know what he really wanted to do with his life. He looked thoroughly embarrassed and mock-glared at Harry, who laughed. Hermione smiled at both of them – it was nice to see Ron being in the limelight for a change, and she knew Harry thought so as well.

Ron cleared his throat a moment later, and everybody went silent. "I – ah – I have something more to tell you guys. Er – it may come as a shock, but – ah – I'm getting married."

Everybody stared at him, stunned.

"Sorry?" Sirius choked.

"To who?" demanded Harry tactlessly. Parvati hit him on the arm.

Luna frowned. "Excuse me!"

Parvati intervened: "I think that's great for you guys. I mean – you're a little young to be getting married and all, but it happens all the time anyway. I'm happy for you."

"We all are," Hermione said, "It's just – a shock."

Ron grinned. "You didn't think I'd be the first to get married, did you?"

"To be honest, no," said Sirius bluntly, "Not in a million years." He grinned, and clapped Ron on the back so hard that he choked on his cake. "Good for you, Ron. You've got a great guy, Luna, take care of him."

Ron turned even pinker.

"I think this calls for a toast," said Harry. He raised his glass. "To Ron and Luna!"

"To Ron and Luna!" everyone echoed. Ron was purple by now.

Hermione laughed and lifted her glass to her mouth. Before it touched her lips, however, the smell of the Firewhiskey hit her nose. She was stunned by the overpowering nausea that struck her almost instantly. Her stomach churned ominously, and she blinked, hastily putting the glass down. The smell of Firewhiskey had never bothered her before... she closed her eyes and realized swiftly what it was. It had happened before after all, with caramel.

And she was going to throw up on the carpet if she didn't get to the kitchen in five second flat.

She leaped up, and caught a glimpse of Harry's concerned eyes as she bolted out of the room. She raced into the kitchen and went to the sink. She stood over it with her hands against the cool metal, breathing hard. The nausea hovered ominously over her stomach and throat, and then passed. She began to feel better, normal again... and hopefully, if she stayed away from the Firewhiskey, she would be spared any further trouble. For a moment, she just closed her eyes and tried to calm herself down. How was she supposed to do this? How could she tell him? How would he react? She knew Sirius very well – he was terribly commitment-phobic, and would shudder at the thought of any tangible tie to another person, like marriage... or this.

Hermione bit her lip hard to quell the droplet of sadness inside her. She was supposed to be happy – and she was actually happy about it. But how was she supposed to tell him about this? Did he really need to know? Hermione nearly laughed out loud at herself. Short of leaving the vicinity entirely and going on a long holiday, exercising like a devil and then returning, there was no way he could _not_ find out. And it would be infinitely better if she told him than if he found out with his own eyes. And what about Ron, going to be married, and Harry, and her parents, and her surrogate parents Dumbledore and McGonagall, and Ginny and Tonks? They had every right to know about it from her – and Remus, and Harry too, had every possible reason to know from both sides. She was an idiot to even consider hiding it from any of them. If she tried to bolt and hide herself, one of them would be bound to find her and find out. And she didn't want to hurt them by not telling them... but telling them meant that she _had_ to tell Sirius. He had more right than anybody else to know about this.

But it was Sirius Black they were talking about... Sirius, whose marauder instincts shied away from anything permanent, whose painful past made him shut off as much emotion as he possibly could and hide from attachments... it was asking a lot to hear the words "I love you" from him – she hadn't heard him say it since the day he had come back from the dead, although she could understand why he backed away from it – and this could just be too much...

Why, why, _why_ did she always have so much to worry about? Voldemort was gone! Yet now she was faced with a dawn after the dusk of war... a dawn she was afraid of because she was left feeling utterly obsolete. And to cap it all off, she had to worry about this as well... all she really wanted was a spark of hope for a future, a future she could love – and this was a spark of hope to her, but it wouldn't be so if Sirius didn't think so. Without him, nothing could make up. Not even her best friends. She needed him, and she was afraid that this would change everything. Well – she laughed at herself – of course this changed everything, but she didn't want it to change so drastically that nothing was like it was now. She knew Harry, Ron and the others would be happy... shocked, but happy. But Sirius – damn him, it all came back to him – and it was _his_ fault too. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter. She was going to drive herself mad at this rate.

"Hermione?"

She opened her eyes. So much for avoiding it...

Sirius was standing right behind her. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with her inner fear.

"I'm fine," she said automatically.

He frowned at her. "No, you're not. I saw the look on your face when you tried to drink the Firewhiskey. It's never bothered you before. Hermione," he reached out and brushed his fingers across her cheek, pulling her closer to him. As inarguably insensitive as he was, he did care. "What's the matter?"

Tears stung her eyes. She didn't know why she felt like crying; her moods appeared to be greatly exaggerated these days. She looked up at Sirius, into his deep and dark eyes, and she was very afraid of this.

"You're not going to like it," she warned him softly, "Although I do – I like it very much, even though it turns everything upside down."

He looked alarmed. "What – ? Tell me, Hermione."

For a moment, she said nothing. He slid his arms down to her waist, his hands warm and drawing her closer to him. One of her hands was on his chest, feeling his heart beat harder as she was close to him and she played with the collar of his shirt with the other hand. She buttoned and unbuttoned one of his buttons on the black shirt, and watched the play of muscles under the thin white fabric. A pulse throbbed in his throat and he bent his head to kiss her neck and bite gently at it, stroking his tongue over each bite to send fire through her veins. A soft groan escaped his throat; his hand moved and he muttered in frustration, "The only problem with this dress is that I can't get under it now."

She smiled and brushed her lips against his. Then she stuck her tongue out at him and he swore under his breath; she knew he loved and hated it when she stuck her tongue out because it always made him want to kiss her and claim the tongue as his own.

"You can't get away with not answering," he whispered against the skin of her throat.

Hermione decided that the only way to do it was to simply say it straight out. She gently detached herself from him, took a deep breath and steeled herself for it, and her voice shook only a little as she said: "I'm going to have a baby, Sirius."

He stared at her. "What?"

"It's true."

"But – r-really?"

"Yes," she nodded, unable to say anything more.

"Merlin's beard," he muttered, "What an idiot I am."

That wasn't the reaction she had been expecting. "It's not really your fault – I mean, not completely. And like I said, I'm – I'm actually quite happy about it. I've always wanted to be a mother some day, and I do love kids." She hesitated, looking down at the floor, and added, "I'm not asking you to do anything. I just thought I'd tell you."

"Not do anything? Are you crazy? You're not going anywhere," Sirius shook his head, and tilting her chin up, he kissed her softly and then harder, more hungrily. She responded instantly, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He lifted his head after a long moment and grinned crookedly. "A marauder can handle anything, Hermione. You do realize we have to tell the rest of them. Some night for announcements."

Hermione nodded. She was filled with a flood of relief to hear him say she wasn't to go anywhere, but she was aware of a faint sense that something was missing. The tears in her throat still hadn't faded.

She was being selfish. What more did she want from him?!

But she knew. She wanted him to be as happy about this as she was. She wanted him to _want_ this, to want her. She wanted him to love her. The painful truth was that she wasn't so sure he actually did, or still did. Coming back from the dead could have instilled in him a delighted exhilaration at life and love, a euphoria that would have faded over this past year. She just didn't know.

Hermione shut off the thoughts. '_You can't have everything in life, Hermione_'... it was something her mother had said to her right from birth, and she trusted in her mum's wisdom. It was true. You had to make do with what you got. She loved him. This was better than she had hoped; it gave her a bit of that spark again, and this was better than nothing.

"You have to move in with us, with me," he added, smiling slightly.

Hermione swallowed and laughed up at him. "_You'll_ have to break it to my parents."

Sirius groaned. "Why do I get myself into these situations?"

Laughing, Hermione followed him back into the living-room to tell the others. She refused to dwell on the sadder thoughts in her mind, or about the dark worries about that terrible question, 'what now'... she was just going to take what she got. You couldn't have everything in life. It was one of those lessons she had learned even on her own. And she had survived a war, still in one piece. She could live through anything now.

**TBC.**

**A/N:** This chapter was surprisingly difficult to write. Please review and let me know how it's going! Should I go on, or should I cut my losses and remove this story entirely? I really need feedback from my faithful readers, and I'd like to thank you all! Enjoy the story.


	3. Horrors

**Disclaimer:** "Harry Potter" etc, etc ... you know the drill here.

**Summary:** After every dusk comes a dawn. How do they live a normal life after all they've endured? Hermione, Sirius, and all the others try. A sequel to "Road to Redemption".

* * *

_**Dusk to Dawn**_

**Chapter Three:** Horrors

* * *

"I am so tired, I think I'm going to fall over and die," Ron declared wearily, sinking deep into the couch as soon as he had taken his plate back to the kitchen after dinner.

Hermione eyed him, alarmed. "Please don't! You've just eaten my cooking; your mother is bound to blame me for your unfortunate demise."

"Is that all I mean to you, Hermione?"

"In essence, yes," she laughed.

Ron snorted. "Blimey, and she calls herself a friend. When are you starting work at Hogwarts?"

"Dumbledore told me I can take up Charms whenever I like after the baby is born. He's giving me some time – at his own suggestion. Besides, Professor Flitwick wants to do a prima donna's curtain call, and dramatise his retirement." Hermione smiled as Ron burst out laughing at the image. "I wish I was starting soon, though."

"Why?"

"I suppose I'm used to having work on my hands."

Ron chuckled. "You're disgraceful, Hermione, somebody should pickle your brains and put them up in a museum for the world to admire! Harry's going to start Auror training in a couple of weeks."

"Yes, I know," she nodded, smiling, "It's what he's always wanted to do."

"I dunno how he can, though."

Hermione looked at him, seeing the troubled look on his face. "Why not, Ron?" she asked gently, wondering how thick-headed Ron really was.

"If I was Harry – well – being an Auror would be the last thing I'd want." He looked at her doubtfully, as if afraid she would mock him or laugh at him. Ron, Hermione knew, didn't have a very good opinion of his own intellect. He was quite right not to, but you had to give him some credit.

She said quietly, "I know exactly what you mean, Ron."

He looked at her, and then grinned. "Right. So. Are you surprised about him and Parvati?"

"That they broke up?" Hermione shook her head. "No, I'm not surprised actually. They'll always be good friends. Harry told me himself that he isn't ready for a relationship with somebody who doesn't know him inside out, like we do. What he was really looking for was female companionship, which he said he already has with me. I guess it makes sense."

"I think it's a little too deep for me," said Ron mournfully, "Am I insensitive? No, don't answer that," he added hastily, grinning, as a twinkle leapt to Hermione's eyes. "How many months along are you, by the way?"

"Four," Hermione responded, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Ron watched her go, shaking his head and smiling a little. He still couldn't believe Hermione was actually going to have a baby. And he was the one who was going to be married in ten months' time. He and Luna had decided to wait, because they both had a lot of things to settle first. Luna was training as editor for her father's magazine, _The Quibbler_, and Ron was in intensive training for Puddlemere United. He leaned his head back against the cushions of the couch, utterly drained. Although he and Hermione had just had a late dinner at the House, he was still in his Quidditch robes. He hadn't yet washed the small cut on his forehead (side-effect of dashing out of a Bludger's path), and he needed a bath desperately, but couldn't bring himself to move.

It had been a rainy practice, and there was still grime on his arms and legs (Hermione had shrieked when he first flopped on the sofa, but he had politely reminded her of the fact that they were both magical citizens and could 'scourgify' the mess in a flash. Her acid glare, belied by the sheepish look in her eyes, had given him some satisfaction.). Although the fans were on, the room felt extremely hot. Sweat dripped down his arm, mingling with the dust. He looked down at it.

How strange, he thought to himself... the pale patterns traced out by the path of perspiration on his forearm... they looked like – they almost looked like –

Ron closed his eyes, but it didn't help. The Dark Mark, grey and smoky but nonetheless terrifying, appeared before his mind, high up in a moonlit sky while people screamed in panic around him. He could still feel the cry that had bubbled up in his throat, a cry that he had stifled with as much courage as he could summon. Harry and Hermione hadn't understood the terror the Dark Mark struck into the hearts of witches and wizards, they hadn't grown up listening to the stories.

"... _You know, Mum you've never told me your maiden name."_

_A flicker of something in her eyes. Was it pain, fear, the jolt of memory? "What a strange question, Ron. Is that something to ask your mother after twelve years in the world?"_

"_We have a family tree assignment in History of Magic, Mum, so go easy on me, would you?"_

"_Prewett." There. That flicker again. What was it?_

_Prewett. Her voice echoed in his mind. He knew that name..._

"_I think you've probably told me before," he said cheerfully, scribbling it down on a piece of paper. Then he blinked, and remembered where he had heard the names. He remembered challenging George to a crossword contest when he was ten, and going into the attic and searching all the old newspapers for the crosswords. He'd found a very old newspaper... with a front-page article..._

_He put down his quill and said slowly, "Gideon and Fabian Prewett. Did you know them, Mum?"_

"_Ron – " she turned around, saw the look in his eyes. "They were my older brothers."_

"_Murdered by You-Know-Who."_

_The tears in her eyes, reddening, spilling over onto her cheeks. "Yes." Her dry, wracking sobs as she fled from the room. _

_The terrible feeling in his gut. No son should see his mother cry..._

Ron blinked, and tried to release the tension that had built up in his stomach. He staggered to his feet, shaky from his exhaustion but full of a new energy because he needed to _do_ something... or else he was lost. He lunged for the remote control of the television and tried to turn it on. The noise blared to life, and he stared at some Muggle rock star biting off the head of a bat with disgust.

"Ron, _what_ are you doing?" Hermione demanded, snatching the remote from him and turning off the TV. "You hate TV, and I thought you swore just yesterday never to touch 'that wretched thing'." She frowned at the black TV screen. "Sirius still isn't home?"

"He'll be back soon," Ron said reassuringly. "You know how unpredictable Aftermath Duty is."

Something in his voice must have caught her attention.

As she turned to look at him, she caught the pallor of his face before the colour came back. He sighed. Hermione missed nothing. She _always_ saw.

"I'm really tired," he said quickly, although she hadn't asked.

"Why do you train so intensively, Ron?" Hermione said softly. "Every spare moment..."

He sighed, and sat down on the couch. Why not tell her the truth? He trusted her with his life. She wouldn't laugh at him. "Because when I'm distracted or training, I don't have to think. And when I don't have to think, I don't have to remember."

The front door opened at that moment, to the relief of both, and Sirius walked into the room, to the greater relief of both. Hermione was struck by how incredible he looked, even after a long day of hard work (hard work Sirius loved immersing himself in). His shirt was dusty and frayed, but it matched his typically dishevelled look. His hair was tousled, and she noticed the frown darkening his brow instantly.

"You two still up?" he said shortly, looking at them.

Hermione sensed his bad mood immediately. "What did Snape do this time?"

Sirius couldn't bite back a smile. "You know me too well. I swear to Merlin I'm going to make truth of my past sins and murder the swine if he doesn't find another job. Dumbledore has no mercy in him. All Snivellus and I do when we're hunting together is fight and argue. We barely have a quiet moment to even think!"

"Perhaps Dumbledore has more mercy than you know," said Hermione cryptically. "For both of you."

They both looked at her. Hermione met Sirius's dark eyes, and looked down at the floor, unsure of whether or not she should have said anything. Her words may have gone over Ron's head, but she was fairly certain Sirius understood exactly what she'd meant.

"Where's Harry?" Sirius asked, clearly unwilling to dwell on the subject.

Ron jerked his head upward. "He was tired, and went to bed early."

"I think I'll follow his example," said Sirius, stretching his arms, "I'm so damned exhausted." He paused, however, and looked at Hermione, "Coming?"

"Not that tired, I see," murmured Ron.

Hermione ignored him, smiled, and blushed a little. "I'll just clear up."

"I'll do that," said Ron mischievously, "You go ahead."

Hermione flushed and looked at Sirius. He grinned and cuffed Ron on the back of the head, and started towards the stairs. His eyebrow lifted in a typically rakish, questioning way, before he chuckled and went up. Hermione frowned reprovingly at Ron, who was having one hell of a laugh, and followed Sirius up to the bedroom on the second floor that they both shared...

* * *

Sirius opened his eyes. The silvery pall of the moon was casting a shimmering glow over the bed, streaking through the softly billowing white curtains of the window. The moonlight caught the sparkle in Hermione's brown hair perfectly, as she lay with her hair splayed around her, soft and silky, her expression unusually peaceful. He watched her for a moment, smiling slightly as he thought about the way she sometimes, late in the night, slipped out of his grasp and cuddled into her own pillow. Old habits died hard. But he loved holding her.

Her mouth opened slightly, and she murmured something before turning over and kicking off the quilts so that he could see her stretchy tank top and baby blue pajamas. He was struck by desire, and forced himself to look away. There was no need to wake her up.

Smiling wryly, he reached out and pulled the quilts back up around her. She would be cold in a minute. He had no idea why she invariably kicked off the covers every night.

Now that he had forced himself not to look at her and was no longer distracted, Sirius was able to realize that something that woken him up. Frowning slightly, he looked around and wondered what it could have been. Had Hermione said or moved in her sleep and woken him? He rubbed sleep out of his eyes, and listened hard. Some noise had woken him, he was sure of it. He stopped moving in the bed and the soft rustling of sheets ceased. Deathly silence reached him; the House was completely peaceful this late in the night – or rather, this early in the morning.

Then he heard something. He pricked up his ears. Yes, there it was.

It was a low sound, muffled – but it Sirius knew what it was. He had heard it many times before.

His heart sank horribly, and his gut clenched. He shook his head slightly and threw off his side of the covers, which were already near his knees anyway. He always wore regular pants to bed; it was a habit he'd gotten into when he was always prepared for an emergency. All he had to pull on were shoes and a T-shirt. He moved noiselessly out of the room and hurried down the corridor. The walls were panelled with warm oak, the floor carpeted thinly. There was something homey, something comfortable and golden about this house that he'd never really noticed before.

He reached the stairs, a winding flight that led upstairs. Both Harry and Remus's rooms were on the third floor, but Remus was staying at Tonks' for the night. Ron and Sirius and Hermione's rooms were all downstairs. Sirius walked up and onto the landing. He walked around the wide space in the middle of the floor, where the stairway was, towards the door of Harry's room. Harry's room was directly positioned above Sirius's in the House, which was why Sirius could usually hear sounds from that room when it was deathly quiet like it was now. He gritted his teeth, furious with the world for what it had done, and walked to Harry's door. He considered knocking, but dismissed the idea because Harry wouldn't hear him anyway and who knocked on the door of the sleeping person? He stared at the knob for a moment, a flicker of fear seizing his insides, and then pushed the door open. He went inside and turned on one of the lights, a dull one, before shutting the door.

Harry lay face down on the bed, biting into the pillow. His arms quivered and thrashed a little, and there were sounds of utter anguish coming from the pillow, the same sounds Sirius had heard from his room below, only magnified with proximity.

"Harry!" Sirius said in a low, compelling voice, reaching out and gripping his shoulder. "Wake up! Harry!"

The boy, the young man, on the bed jerked and lay still. Then slowly, Harry turned fully over and sat up, fumbling for his glasses. Sirius pulled him closer and Harry silently rested his head against his godfather's shoulder, breathing hard. His body was soaked with perspiration, his skin was paler than pale, almost sickly, and his green eyes were wide and glassy, full of unspoken horrors.

"It's all right," said Sirius gruffly, ruffling Harry's hair like a father or brother would, "It was just a dream. A nightmare. It wasn't real."

"It was," said Harry, low, "It was real once."

"Those memories are over, Harry, the chapter is closed."

Harry leaned back against the wall behind his bed. He looked a little better, although still shaky. "Do you really believe that, Sirius? Does the pain, do the memories ever _really_ leave you? Yeah, the chapter is supposed to be closed. But has it been? _Can_ it be?"

"Hell, I'm no wise man, Harry," Sirius said, almost bitterly, sinking down in the chair next to the bed, "I don't have the answers."

His godson looked back at him, green eyes filled with knowledge – too much knowledge. "Has Azkaban left you?"

Sirius closed his eyes.

... _The anguished sobs of the other prisoners, low and muffled so that the Dementors wouldn't have the cold satisfaction of hearing them, but far too audible to the sharp ears of an Animagus whose form was a dog._

"_Lily and James, Sirius, how could you!"_

"_Go away, Peter, leave me alone..." Mumbling, pleading in his sleep... then the anger... keeping him sane..._

_Bellatrix coming in, looking at him with a hollow black eyes. She had never once screamed. The sobs and moans he heard were never once hers. She was cold as stone, dead as a fish inside. She was so cold that she didn't even feel the pain, the desolation. He hated her with all his soul, but he wished he could borrow a sliver of her steel and use it to protect himself from the pain. He envied the stone inside her. Blood was blood after all. Perhaps he had some of it._

"_Lily and James, Sirius, how could you!"_

_No... he had far too little of it to save him in here..._

"Sirius?" Harry said slowly, pulling him out of his reverie. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to – "

"It's all right," he said, smiling faintly, "Those memories are so hashed out in my mind anyway that all they cause now is a dull ache. The sharp stabs of pain are no longer there. I never cared enough to feel daggers even now. You'll find the same, Harry. All it takes is time. The nightmares will cease. The pain will be a dull throb, nothing more. A mere headache."

Harry looked down at his hands and when he spoke, his voice cracked slightly: "I don't want to have to deal with it for the rest of my life, Sirius. I don't want every moment of my world to be marred and scarred by all that I've known and done." His voice was low, cracking, but nonetheless powerful in its intensity. "I never asked to be Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived! I wish I'd died with Voldemort, I wish I'd died with my parents, I wish I wasn't here any longer. Dying at the end of the war would have been the best way to go, but I wasn't even given that mercy! I can't deal with_ living_."

"You can't fool a man who feels the same thing, Harry," said Sirius quietly.

Harry looked up at him, a question in his eyes.

"You're not incapable of dealing with living. You're afraid – because you don't know how to live." Sirius sighed softly. "So am I. I was young when the war began, almost as young as you when Voldemort's terror first spread. I lost my youth in Azkaban. I don't know how to live either, Harry."

"Then how do we get through each day now? What now, Sirius? How do we do this?"

Sirius looked out of the window, at the shadows of the clouds passing over the moon so that it was a clear silvery orb once more. "I guess we just have to learn," he said heavily.

And they'd thought the hardest part was over.

* * *

Ron lay awake in bed.

He was lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows flit and dance across. He could see various shapes there, could hear the whispers of memories filling up the silence. If only one didn't have to remember... how easy the world would be then. If only he didn't have to think at all. His mouth twisted a little wryly.

Harry and Hermione both laughed at him because he wasn't as intelligent as they were, and definitely not as clever as Hermione was. He wouldn't want to be anyway, that would be plain scary. But they didn't understand that it was easier not to be smart and perceptive, it was easier not to notice because then you had less to worry about, less to think about. You could just program your mind into 'thick-headed' mode, and you were spared all the burdens of knowledge. He'd perfected the art over eighteen years.

'Ignorance is bliss, Hermione, didn't you ever hear that?'... He smiled; he ought to say that to her sometime, just to see how she would react.

Probably hex him into oblivion.

He looked at the dusty old photograph lying on his windowsill, propped up against the glass as cool rain started to fall outside. Dawn would be here soon – dawn... wasn't dawn already here, a strangely dark and misty dawn that they could find nothing in and no path leading out of it. Ron rolled his eyes. He was starting to become philosophical, which was downright ridiculous. He wasn't even supposed to be capable of stating facts, let alone the deep analysis of philosophy!

His eyes flickered. The photograph was a very old one, hidden away in his trunk for years. He'd taken it out only a few hours ago, and he didn't know why he had, only that it was now propped up there for him to look at. Did he want to look at it? He didn't know. He only knew that he WAS looking at it, and that he couldn't turn his eyes away. It was a picture that portrayed nine red-haired people, all of whom except for two were very young, most of who were below the age of ten. Ron lifted a finger and trailed it down the picture. His parents... Bill and Charlie with their arms slung around each other... Percy fighting off Fred... Ginny at five years old... and George laughing and trying to pull a shy version of himself into the frame... a happy family.

And now? Percy was estranged from them. Charlie was barely around anymore. Ginny was showing alarming signs of _softening_ towards Draco Malfoy, and that could only mean trouble. His mother cried every time Percy's name was mentioned, and Ron knew the depth of her pain over her dead brothers. His father worked hard, every minute of the day...

Could anybody still call them a happy family?

Harry wasn't the only one who had lost people he loved. Perhaps Ron could see the Thestrals, and hadn't seen death in its face, but he had felt its power as if he had been the one slaughtered by it. And there were some losses, like that by the betrayal of your own brother, that were just as painful as death itself... perhaps even more so. But it was just pointless thinking about it... Ron blinked back his tears, turned over, and went to sleep.

* * *

Sirius shut Harry's door quietly behind him and rubbed his forehead. He was tired, and utterly drained from all that he and Harry had talked about. He wanted nothing more than to – it was strange, but far from wanting to be alone, he wanted nothing more than to find Hermione and feel her hands stroking his hair as he held her, trying to drown in her.

But she was asleep, and he was far from finding sleep now. He stared at the dark corners of the warm corridor and smiled slightly to himself. Unlike Grimmauld Place, he loved this House and actually wanted to go downstairs into the kitchen – a warm kitchen, unlike the cold stone of his family home – and make coffee. After all, he had nothing better to do and the sun would be rising in another hour, perhaps a little more. He walked downstairs to the ground floor and padded through the hallway towards the kitchen. A light, soft and golden, was on inside. He frowned a little, wondering if Ron had forgotten to turn it off when he'd gone upstairs.

He walked in, and found Hermione sitting alone behind the counter.

* * *

**TBC.**

**A/N:** I am so busy, it's not even funny!


End file.
